He turns a corner near 38th and Acacia, where a new auto body shop has been squeezed between two homes. Nielsen shakes his head. "Only in Southeast. Where else would that be allowed to happen?"
Thursday, November 26
I moved to the Bay Area from El Cajon and the fifteen- or twenty-page letters we used to exchange dwindled down to a precious few and the next thing I know you had quit Creem.
A month after it began, the workers’ revolt is over. The two-week-old rebel government has been toppled. Its leader and his three top lieutenants have been exiled. Several other “subversive elements,” in the words of …
Thursday, November 19
I know this: if ever I go crazy — stark raving psychotic, you know, hearing voices, fending off hallucinations — I would rather be at Hanbledeya than anywhere else. If I ever become so alienated …
Thursday, November 12
Lee Strobel did not die in the steam blast as he thought he would. The force of the steam had carried him forward until he hit a bulkhead almost fifty feet from where he had been standing.
Thursday, November 5
Since Pennsylvania, excluding Missouri and a couple of urban accidents adjacent to rivers, a suspension of disbelief had seemed called for in cozying up to the question WHY HERE? Why a bunch of Euros would come here?
Rumor will have it that I am at work on a novel set in the town. It will be said, “She has been a cross, God knows.” “He has not, you know, worn himself out, carrying it.”